Lucien moved before dawn touched the stone.
The path toward the primary mine wound through layers of the mountain like an old scar that refused to close. It was not a single tunnel but a network of passages. Some were natural, others were carved with patience measured in centuries.
The Lithren had given him everything they had.
They provided maps etched into stone plates and elder records passed down not through writing alone, but through spatial markers and cues only their race could perceive.
The records detailed routes that curved away from Alloykin patrol lines, dead zones where Astrafer interference blinded foreign senses, and narrow passages where metal bodies struggled to pass without destabilizing the surrounding veins.
Lucien accepted the records with care.
Still, he did not intend to act blindly.
The Spatial Compass is functional in this world. That alone reduced uncertainty.
It confirmed the elders' work. Their maps were not guesswork. They were precise.
...
